Captain Munro, recovering himself a little, replied, “It is even so, Sir; and you are come in time to remove the spell. Say, who are these before you?”
The farmer surveyed the group, and observing that Emma had not the bandeau of rose-buds by which she was to be distinguished from her sister, replied: “Captain, what do you mean? The young man is my son Edward; the other is Dr Malcolm, my son-in-law: you surely do not require to be told that the female is my daughter, and your bride.”
“She is no bride of mine—I renounce her for ever!” said the angry soldier, in a most indignant tone.
While the farmer stood, as much amazed as the Captain had been, Emily came forward from the thicket, and, standing close beside her sister, said, “Dear father, let not the gentlemen quarrel; you have certainly a daughter for each of them; and as both of us are quite willing to have husbands, have the goodness to give our hands to those for whom you intend us;” and both sisters stood with the stillness, gravity, and silence of statues. The astonished father found the distinguishing badge wanting in both, and replied, “I must confess I am fairly bewildered; gentlemen, choose for yourselves, for I cannot!”
Edward now put on Emily’s playful smile, and looked at the Captain in a manner which made him at once clasp the youth in his arms, crying, “My dear Emily! I know you now.”
The loud laughter of the party again renewed the confusion of the bridegroom and farmer, which was enjoyed for a considerable time before they condescended to give any explanation. It was, however, at last made; all was set right, and the evening passed at Greenbraes in hilarity and unclouded happiness.
ALBERT BANE:
AN INCIDENT OF THE BATTLE OF CULLODEN.
By Henry Mackenzie.
When I was, last autumn, at my friend Colonel Caustic’s in the country, I saw there, on a visit to Miss Caustic, a young gentleman and his sister, children of a neighbour of the Colonel’s, with whose appearance and manner I was particularly pleased.
The history of their parents, said my friend, is somewhat particular, and I love to tell it, as I do everything that is to the honour of our nature. Man is so poor a thing, taken in the gross, that when I meet with an instance of nobleness in detail, I am fain to rest upon it long, and to recall it often, as in coming thither over our barren hills you would look with double delight on a spot of cultivation or of beauty.